


Field of Dreamz

by FifteenDozenTimes



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Open Marriage, Power Play, Sexting, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 06:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5732398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/FifteenDozenTimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake doesn’t, generally, give a lot of thought to whatever flashes through his head when he’s jerking off, because that way lies madness, but it’s maybe a little weird how hard he comes when he flashes on Kevin’s face, tight-lipped and drawn-eyebrowed, in his office earlier that day. It’s maybe a little weird how settled he feels, for the first time all day, afterward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Field of Dreamz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inlovewithnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/gifts).



> I have nothing to say for myself.
> 
> [epershand](http://archiveofourown.org/users/epershand) made finger guns at me when she made a correction to this, because she is the best.

Jake is a modern gentleman with access to the internet, so he’s got a pretty healthy, or at least pretty thorough, understanding of sex stuff and what works for him. He’s also kind of dumb, when he’s not being a genius, and he’s not necessarily good at figuring out when something’s going weird because he’s kind of an awkward guy, and when it’s going weird for, like, reasons. Boner reasons.

Jake doesn’t, generally, give a lot of thought to whatever flashes through his head when he’s jerking off, because that way lies madness, but it’s maybe a little weird how hard he comes when he flashes on Kevin’s face, tight-lipped and drawn-eyebrowed, in his office earlier that day. It’s maybe a little weird how settled he feels, for the first time all day, afterward.

Whatever. Jake’s spank bank is a weird, dark place, and it’s probably better for everyone not to worry about what winds up there.

*

It’s not a thing. Sometimes when Jake jerks off Kevin’s face, or the way he packs all the disapproval in the world into the phrase _your work life is here_ , pops up. Less often than Jenny Gildenhorn, or Amy, more often than Terry picking him up like he weighs nothing. It’s just a thing, not, like, a _thing_. Jake can’t really look Kevin in the eye, but it’s not like he has that many opportunities to, and one time when he was looking for gum at Gina’s desk and answered the phone, he was so startled to hear Kevin on the other end he hung up on him, but he’s an awkward guy. 

*

_Peralta, I’d appreciate it if you’d do what every other underdeveloped person does and use the internet as nothing more than a masturbatory aid_.

On the one hand, Jake was absolutely sending Kevin memes and chain letters because he thinks it’s funny (just funny, just funny, not anything else) to bother Kevin, funny that Kevin always responds. On the other hand, Kevin doesn’t have to be so mean about it.

Whatever. Jake’ll just leave him alone for a little while, because he does sometimes know when to stop, and he doesn’t need a weird lecture from Holt about boundaries. There are plenty of people he can bother for the same effect, probably.

Like, yeah, okay, so he can’t sleep, because he can’t stop thinking about Kevin telling him to jerk off, just kind of standing there with that you’ve-disappointed-me frown judging Jake’s porn choices and his technique and how fast he comes, telling him to do it again, do it right, it’s so simple, Peralta, how are you bad at _this_?

Jake jerks off quick and frantic, bites his lip so hard his eyes tear up, and his whole deal is fantasy is fantasy and shame is pointless, but he’s so ashamed, and it feels so good, and the first thing he does in the morning is send Kevin a video of drunk girls with puppies.

*

So it’s a thing, for a while; Jake’s dumb, but he’s not stupid, and he knows the difference between friendly obnoxiousness and...whatever this is, exactly. Mostly it’s just friendly obnoxiousness, to be fair, but sometimes instead of _grow up_ or whatever, Kevin’s response is _is that what you’re into? Of course_ or _find something else to do with your time and your hands_. 

And then Jake jerks himself raw for a few days, and goes to sleep with that hot little curl of shame wrapped around him, and it’s so good, and he’s having a hard time looking Holt in the eye and he is so, so fucked.

Kevin doesn’t come by the precinct often, so it’s a while before Jake has to deal with just how fucked he is. A while, but not forever. Holt meets Kevin for lunch sometimes, and every now and then Kevin walks him back to work, because Kevin’s getting more and more comfortable at the precinct, and that’s good. It’s less good that Jake’s getting a repetitive stress injury in his right hand and goes to sleep with Kevin’s voice in his head, and when Kevin nods on his way out and says, “Peralta,” Jake’s dick reacts like something actually sexy happened.

Jake can’t really talk to any of the people who usually tell him his idea for handling his latest problem is stupid, but he can’t really keep not handling this, so he goes with his gut and knocks on Holt’s door.

*

“You spoke to my husband.”

“Yes.”

“And you told him you’re, and I quote, ‘doing flirting stuff’ and ‘interfering in our marriage, maybe, a little’?”

“Yes?”

“Is that a question, Peralta, or an answer?”

Jake sucks in a breath because, God, why is that so hot? What is _wrong_ with him? “I mean, I said that.”

“He’s very confused.”

“I’m kind of confused,” Jake admits, and Kevin sighs.

“Are you free for lunch tomorrow? I suppose we should talk.”

Jake can’t think of anything he wants to do less than sit somewhere across from Kevin, across from that face and that voice, and admit he’s kind of a gross creep who can’t figure out social cues and has no boundaries and then have to try not to react to however Kevin reacts. Probably that one eyebrow quirked and his lips tight, God. 

“Yeah,” Jake says, because he’s an idiot. “Lunch, yeah, okay.”

*

“I’m going to take pity on you,” Kevin says, “and not pretend I had no idea what was going on. I prefer the veneer of deniability, but I suppose that’s not fair.”

“Oh, yeah, no, the, uh, the venn diagram of - “

“Don’t strain yourself,” Kevin says, and there’s that eyebrow quirk, and Jake should’ve worn looser pants, maybe. He shifts in his seat, relieves the pressure a little, and there goes the other eyebrow. “Really, Peralta?”

“Yeah? I mean, you just - yeah. I don’t know.”

The waitress comes over to refill their waters, and Kevin waves her away, but not before Jake has a chance to consider how this looks, what someone might think about his red face, the way he can’t look Kevin in the eyes, the curious-predatory glint Kevin has. 

“I’m not trying to make this difficult,” Kevin says, when they’re mostly alone again. “But I don’t appear to be able to help myself.”

“I’m okay with that,” Jake says, in a rush, shifts again but getting comfortable is a lost cause. “I just don’t really know what’s going on.”

“ _Quelle surprise_ ,” Kevin says, and Jake doesn’t know what that means but the way he says it, it just - Jake takes a long drink of water, because he’s a grown up adult in public and he needs to get his shit together.

“You just said you weren’t trying to make this difficult.”

“You’re right, that was unfair. What’s going on, as far as I can tell, is you like to be scolded, and you want it so badly you were willing to annoy me into scolding you.”

“I mean, yeah, but - “

“And, when it turned out I enjoy it as much as you do - “ Kevin glances down, and he can’t actually be seeing anything but the table but Jake feels it, like Kevin’s just reached out and touched him. “Well, maybe not _as_ much. But I do find it...pleasurable.”

“Cool,” Jake says, gulps down more water. His fries are getting cold, his BLT’s getting soggy, but he can’t make himself eat. “Cool. Cool cool cool. Cool.”

“Peralta,” Kevin says, sharp enough to snap him out of it.

“Sorry. So that’s - so we just - or do we - I don’t - “

“It’s alright to just not talk, if you don’t know what to say, you know.”

“That sounds fake, but okay.”

Kevin laughs at that, a little, a nice laugh, not a mean laugh even though he’s rolling his eyes. God, what is _happening_.

“Raymond and I have a fairly permissive marriage,” Kevin says. “I understand why you felt the need to speak to him, I should have...I suppose having a frank conversation with you about what was happening would make it too real. I didn’t intend to put you in that position.”

“Oh yeah, no, it’s - “ Jake thinks about Holt’s face, slack-jawed, truly taken aback for maybe the first time since Jake’s met him, and it might be the most humiliated he’s ever been but also, so worth it. “It’s fine.”

“I’m not interested in having sex with you.”

“Okay?”

“That’s not a non-sequitur, Peralta, that’s a boundary. We’re setting boundaries. I have no interest in a physical relationship, I like the distance. I wouldn’t be opposed to, say, being on the phone with you while you - “ Kevin cuts himself off, quite suddenly, and looks very seriously at the table when the waitress asks if they want dessert, was everything okay, do they want a box, are they ready for the check. Jake can’t have him finish that sentence, anyway, as it is he’s looking at a real painful walk home.

“I don’t think I have any boundaries,” Jake says, and Kevin laughs again.

“I didn’t think so. You’ll tell me, though, if you come up with some? I need you to promise me that.”

“Yeah,” Jake says, “of course.”

“For example, if I were to suggest you lack the self-control necessary to keep from relieving yourself right here in a public bathroom, with the expectation that you would get up and do so, would that cross a line?”

What. God. What? “What?”

“Can you make it to your apartment before you lose control of yourself, Peralta, or are you weaker than I thought?”

“I can get home,” he says, stupidly, brain leaking out his ears, not actually entirely positive he won’t pop off when he stands up.

Kevin leans back, smirks at him, and Jake just - God.

“Well,” Kevin says, “maybe you’re not a complete disappointment, after all.”

There’s a text from Kevin waiting when he comes up from the subway, sent not long after Jake bolted from the restaurant.

_Tell me when you come,_ it says, _I want to know how long you last._

Okay. So this is, like, for real, then. Okay. Awesome. Cool.

*

So for a while, Jake isn’t actually banging his boss’s husband, but he’s not really not banging the boss’s husband, and it’s not as weird as it should be, maybe. Jake doesn’t know how much Holt knows, or doesn’t know, but when he gets weird about it Kevin reassures him, and he trusts Kevin, and he trusts Holt, and he kind of trusts himself.

Kevin leaves him alone during work hours, one of his boundaries, and sometimes he’ll go a week or so without contact, and sometimes he gets Jake right out of the door on his way home, like he’s tracking Jake’s movements, and Jake’ll spend the whole evening tense and on edge in the best fucking way until right before bed when Kevin, always, comes through for him.

And that’s just Jake’s life for a while, and it stops feeling strange, starts just feeling like his life, like of course he’s got a weird sex thing with Kevin, of course he’s that guy. They take a break, when Sophia happens, and she’s so good at making Jake feel dirty and terrible and ashamed when that’s what they’re both in the mood for, and Jake doesn’t think about how he kind of misses Kevin, how differently Kevin’s disapproval settles in his bones and in his boner.

Jake texts Kevin when the whole Sophia thing isn’t a thing anymore, gives himself a few days but not a full week. _single again_ he says, and _????????????_

_Miss me? Pathetic._ is Kevin’s response, and thirty seconds later he calls, and tells Jake how nice it was not to have this burden, how he thought he’d finally shaken Jake’s sad little crush, how predictable but how sad it is that Jake couldn’t last five minutes without someone.

Kevin doesn’t jerk off when they do this, makes up some bullshit about how it’s just “erotic” for him, like that doesn’t just mean “hot”, but his breathing goes uneven when Jake comes, when Jake gasps, “thank you,” into the phone.

*

“So, I know I’m not supposed to tell anyone at work,” Jake says, when Kevin finally answers his phone.

“Oh no. What did you do?”

“Nothing! Yet?”

Kevin sighs, and Jake can see him, sitting in his office, rubbing the bridge of his nose, all disappointed professor who needs to punish him for - no, no, serious conversation time, grown up time.

“So, Amy and I are dating.”

“Santiago? She’s far too good for you.”

Jake will never, ever tell her Kevin said that. Or, he’ll forget an anniversary sometime, and telling her will make an awesome last-minute no-effort gift. Yeah. “I know.”

“I suppose I could use a break,” Kevin says. “Raymond needs a little extra attention, at the moment.”

“I don’t want a break,” Jake says, and Kevin’s quiet long enough for embarrassment to fully set in, long enough Jake kind of wants to take it back. That’s not - whatever. “I mean, if she wants me to stop, obviously. But I kind of was hoping you’d be okay with me, like, telling her? And then if she’s okay with it, and you’re okay with it, we could, y’know, not do that. Not stop.”

Kevin’s quiet, Kevin’s so quiet, Jake can barely tell he’s still there. Jake doesn’t do quiet, but he has to, serious conversation, grown up time, all that stuff. He doesn’t start babbling, even if he has to bite his lip and clench his fists so tight it hurts a little to keep it that way.

“I trust your judgment,” Kevin says, “God help me, I do. Let me know what she decides, we can take it from there.”

“Cool,” Jake says, but Kevin’s already hung up.

*

“So, before we go too much farther, there’s kind of something I should probably sort of tell you, probably.”

“This has to be good.”

“I have kind of a...thing, with Kevin.”

Amy rolls her eyes. “For the last time, Jake, someone thinking you’re obnoxious isn’t a _thing_ , it’s most people’s default state.”

Yeah, this is gonna go super well. “Not that kind of thing! A sex thing.”

“This is a test, right? Of what, though? No, I won’t resent you if Kevin or the Captain likes you better than me, because that won’t ever happen.”

“I’m not testing you, I’m trying to talk openly about my feelings, and my weird boner needs, and have a conversation.”

“A conversation about how you’re apparently sleeping with Holt’s husband?”

“We don’t sleep together, he just tells me what a disappointment I am and I jerk off. I don’t think it’s even sexy for him, it’s just stress relief or something.”

If Jake had a motto, or a mantra, or whatever, it’d be “Yeah, okay, I’m down.” It’s a good one, most of the time, it’s how he winds up in situations like last Saturday, when Kevin called him in the morning, and again before bed, and asked how many times he’d jerked off thinking about the first call, and told Jake how gross he was. But it’s also how he winds up in situations like this one, having to explain to someone like Amy the how, and the why, all the stuff he doesn’t think about too hard.

“I...wow, okay. I - how do I even respond to that?”

“’Wow, Jake, your powers of seduction are much greater than I imagined.’ Or ‘I always knew Kevin liked you better!’. Ooh, or ‘that sounds like kinky fun, I’m cool if you keep doing it on the side.’ That was a rhetorical question, wasn’t it.”

Amy bites her lip a little, something she usually only does when he’s doing something nice to her with one of the many body parts of his she enjoys, and focuses really hard on one of the stains on the couch cushion between them. Jake doesn’t do well with silence, but he fights his instinct to fill the dead air with babbling. 

“Okay,” Amy says, to the couch, and then looks up at him with her eyebrows quirked. “I’m not sure I get it, but, yeah, okay, if you want to keep doing it, then...okay.”

“Seriously?”

Amy shrugs. “If Kevin’s okay with it, obviously. I mean...what better way to bond with Holt? ‘Hey, Captain, how about that weird sex thing our boyfriends are doing? Weird, right?’”

“Oh, definitely call Kevin his boyfriend, he’ll love that,” Jake says, because he’s so happy, and so relieved, and so into this weirdo, and if he doesn’t steer towards making fun of her he’s going to get all embarrassingly gooey at her. An important part of being Jake is knowing when to start an emotional talk you can’t finish and knowing how to avoid finishing it.

*

_i showed her all our texts &stuff. she thinks im gross. ok w/ it tho_

_You are gross_

Jake tilts his phone to show her the latest, and Amy rolls her eyes. 

“That really does it for you?” 

“Oh yeah. Like, a lot.” 

“Can I -” Amy takes a deep breath, bites her lip a little, turns her I-have-a-dirty-idea look on Jake. “Can you do it, like, now? Can I watch?” 

It takes Jake a second to switch his brain back online, because what, yes; when he’s back to his senses he’s already halfway through a text. 

_can we do it now???? she wants to see ;) ;) ;)_

_I’m sure she’s seen it plenty already, knowing you. How many times a day do you jerk off? Does she know how often I’m the reason? Does she know how bad you need it? How dirty you are, how weak?_

Jake groans and practically throws his phone at Amy in his rush to get a hand on his dick, because yeah, yeah, she knows, she knows everything wrong with him and wants him anyway, likes him anyway, knows how dirty and needy and out of control he is. And now she _knows_ , knows how hard he gets, how fast, and she can judge him for it, too, tell him he’s - God, shit. Shit, shit. 

“He, um,” Amy says, a little quiet, that little shiver she gets to her voice when she’s turned on, “he wants to know if you lasted more than thirty seconds, this time.” 

Jake wants to say something, but he can’t, he’s already coming, spilling over his fist, gasping for air because - no, that wasn’t very long, he’s so - he can do better. 

“Wow,” Amy says, and he braces himself, but she looks - cheeks flushed, eyes wide, a little confused but a lot into this. Okay. Okay, good. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she says, and tosses the phone aside so she can kiss him deep and slow and dirty. “Yeah.” 


End file.
